


Were you blinded by the light?

by furious_hope



Series: Flares [10]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dementors, Gen, Patronus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:22:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22441759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/furious_hope/pseuds/furious_hope
Summary: Edgar Bones can't make a Patronus to save his life.
Series: Flares [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1565818





	Were you blinded by the light?

Edger was feeling grim. He was generally a grim man, he had no misapprehensions about that, and even if he had, several of his friends and family members made a point of telling him, so it would have been difficult to ignore. Nevertheless, he thought that in this situation his pessimism was utterly appropriate.

He had been carrying certain papers entrusted to him by Vance, and acting as the messenger to Dumbledore, what with the owl network becoming increasingly untrustworthy these days. Upon arrival in Hogsmeade, he had noted how quiet the village seemed despite the light summer evening, and ducked into an alley on the suspicion that something was up. He’d been right. He really, really wished he hadn’t. Hearing screams echoing from the high street, he’d hidden the papers behind a bin, hastily assembled some wards designed to explode upon touch from any magical signature but his, and strode towards the sound, wand at the ready. His breath rose up in the air in front of him, and he felt unhappy even before he realised what that implied. Dementors. He was absolutely useless at producing any kind of a Patronus, let alone a corporeal one. Screams rang out again. There was little point rushing in without back-up, but the Order had little to spare. Even less reason to endanger himself, some part of him argued, but his feet were already running towards the cries. He was grim, and no Gryffindor, but he hated people hurting.

Turning onto the high street, he saw a cloud of the dreaded shadowy figures. There must be at least twenty, thirty .. counting was pointless. He shouted at some of the people to move or help, and it seemed to jostle them out of their dazed sadness long enough to run. Grabbing one man cowering from a Dementor, he managed to apparate a street away, and the wizard stumbled away. He ran back to try to get more people away, but he already felt drained. There was a child lying on the side of the street, a Dementor looming over them he realised, feeling dread heavy in his heart, and he ran to grab them. The kid seemed not to even realise he was there and was thrashing around so he could not even pull them in Side-Along. The Dementor turned towards him, and he felt himself sinking…

Pain from when he had broken his arm trying to fly, and the great fear that rose in him whenever airborne since … His mother grating out words as he stooped over her bed, trying not to throw up at the weeping wound on her side… Lying in an open grave…

He gasped, pulling himself back to reality, and feebly tried to produce a Patronus, but a few sputtering sparks were all he managed before he was swallowed back into gloom. He was utterly alone in dark, and he felt like he was fading into it. He gave up. He fell into the blackness, relinquishing anything but fear and pain, screaming soundlessly. The dark felt absolute, eternal, unending.

And then a glimmer appeared.

He thought (with what was left of his mind) that it must be a delusion, a fake meant to taunt him in his powerlessness. Then it rushed up, filling his eyeballs to searing, light shining everywhere. He felt a wash of warmth run through him, and he struggled to his feet, seeing nothing but glorious light. He shut his eyes, and then quickly reopened them, anything better than the darkness lurking. He could see nothing but light.

The cold and gloom was receding and in its place he began to be able to see the high street again. The Dementors were fleeing! A huge rhino was charging them down in a blaze of light. It’s cantering gallop was noiseless but triumphant nevertheless, and he felt liked he’d drunk a mouthful of too warm tea. He never wanted to feel cold again. Looking around for the source of the Patronus, he spotted a woman in Auror gear, methodically checking everyone on the street, looking around for any traces of remaining Dementors, all whilst making that huge Patronus. He turned to check on the child besides him, and found that he was out cold, but with a working pulse. The beat felt like hope.


End file.
